Knot Today: Hiddenverse, page 19
“She begged, you know.”
His whole body locks, tension snapping through him, a wire pulled too tight.
I smile into his skin, feeling his heartbeat against my cheek. “Willow,” I add, as if he doesn’t already know who she is.
His breath shudders out, barely controlled.
“Begged me,” I add, just to twist the knife.
His fingers tighten in my hair. A warning.
I hum. “You’re stronger than me.”
“Obviously,” he mutters.
I chuckle, tilting my head up, watching his profile in the dim light. “I would’ve folded for her the second she gave me those eyes she gives you.”
His jaw clenches, his throat working.
I press my lips against his skin, soothing the tension there. “You really gonna be able to hold out?”
Another exhale, another beat of silence.
Then—
“She’s not ready.”
I don’t argue. Because for all the shit I give him, all the ways I press his buttons, I know Graham.
When he gives in to something, it’s absolute.
When he finally lets himself have Willow? It won’t be just for one night. So I just close my eyes, letting him hold me, letting the silence settle between us.
Because that will be something to see. And I can wait for it.
“Walking just fine. How’s sitting?” Hunter snaps the second we round the corner, arms crossed over his chest. Dry, sharp, all edge. He’s had a long night playing babysitter to our little flight risk, and it shows.
He’s posted up by her apartment door, shoulders tense, refusing to step inside. Too much for him. Too close.
“Jealous?” I shoot back, brow arched, smirk locked in. I don’t need his answer—I can already see it.
He scoffs, shakes his head, but his jaw ticks. I know him too well. He’d rather be home with us, blowing off steam, than stuck here pretending to play saint.
Not that any of us are saints.
I roll my shoulders, phantom ache from last night still in my muscles. I slept like the dead. Graham? Not so much. Woke up wound tighter than before, storm still gnawing at him. Getting off didn’t cut it. Maybe I should remind him how good it felt. Maybe I should—
A laugh slips out, amused at my own thought.
Hunter’s glare snaps to me, hard, like I aimed it straight at him.
Which, really, it works, so I just shrug and don’t explain myself.
Graham sighs. “How’s Willow?”
Hunter shifts his weight, rolling his neck. “As angry as a wet cat.”
I huff out a laugh. “And how’s the lock holding up?”
Hunter lifts a brow. “Intact. For now.”
For now.
She must’ve tested it.
A thrill shoots through me because that means she thought about sneaking out. And I’d bet everything that she thought about sneaking straight to Finn. That’s going to be a problem. I don’t like it.
And I really don’t like how much it turns me on that she’s stubborn enough to try.
Graham exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Did she get any sleep?”
Hunter scoffs. “Tossed and turned most of the night. I heard her pacing more than once. Probably thinking of new ways to murder us.”
“Sexy.” I grin.
Hunter doesn’t even crack a smirk. “She called her dad.”
That wipes the smile from my face.
Graham stills. “When?”
“Right after I gave her back her phone.” Hunter’s expression tightens. “It sounded like World War Three was happening in there.”
I blink. “That bad?”
Hunter nods. “Mr. Delong shut her down. Hard. I don’t think she expected that.”
A pang of something I don’t want to name hits my chest.
Willow always gets what she wants. Always finds a way. Always charms, manipulates, fights, wins. I know that just being around her for the short time I have.
But not this time.
This time, the one person who has always been in her corner—the one person who would burn the world down for her—was the one reinforcing the walls she’s trying to break through. Walls we created. We are the enemy to her right now.
Graham shakes his head. “She’s going to push harder.”
I nod, rolling my shoulders. “I’d be disappointed if she didn’t.”
Hunter’s expression darkens. “She’s not just pushing to test limits, Carson. She’s looking for weaknesses.”
His words hit hard. Because we all know what that means. She’s looking for the crack in our armor. She’s looking for the way out. She’s still trying to convince herself that we’re the problem, not Finn.
If we don’t shift this dynamic soon, she will find a way to slip through our fingers. I don’t plan on letting that happen.
“So—why don’t we give her a weakness?” I say, stretching my arms behind my head, casual as hell, even if it’s a crazy fucking idea. “She already knows you two don’t approve of what I did—with her.”
The words hang. Heavy. Both of them tense. Exactly what I wanted.
Predictably, Hunter’s shoulders bunch, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Graham goes completely still.
I bite back a smirk. Too easy.
“But I can be that weakness,” I continue.
Hunter’s brows lower, a deep line forming between them. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Maybe even help her get to Finn…like a play date,” I say, not really answering him.
Hunter stares at me like I’ve just sprouted a second head. His nostrils flare slightly, and I know he’s seconds from snapping at me. Graham tenses. The only sign he’s even alive is that little muscle ticking in his jaw.
“A play date?” Hunter echoes, his voice flat. “You just going to sit on the couch while they play?” He blinks at me, slowly.
I roll my shoulders, keeping my tone casual. “She isn’t going to do anything with him.”
Hunter snorts. “You sound real sure about that.”
I am sure. Finn is playing a long game. He wants her, but he’s patient. And Willow likes the attention, but she’s also fighting it.
If I put her too close to him, if I give her just enough space to see exactly how far gone he is—maybe she’ll realize we’re not the enemy here.
I let the silence stretch before I continue, because I want them both really thinking about it. “She wants Finn. We all know it. But she also doesn’t fully trust him. Not yet.” I shift my weight, keeping my voice even. “I can be her in.”
Hunter crosses his arms, rolling his shoulders, already hating this. Graham just stares, his jaw tight, unreadable.
“It could help her see how crazy he is,” I finish.
Hunter tilts his head, considering. I shoot Graham a look.
That tendon in his jaw ticks again. His gaze flicks to me, then past me. He’s already running every possible scenario in his head, looking for the outcome that keeps Willow alive and untouched.
Then he nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “That could work.”
I blink. “That could work?” I repeat, just to make sure I heard him right.
He’s agreeing with me.
Graham—Mr. No Bullshit, No Risks, No Playing Games—is agreeing with me.
Warmth spreads in my chest. Sometimes, I do have good fucking ideas.
Hunter shakes his head. “So what? We just let you play the bait? He’s dangerous. You’ve read his file.”
I roll my eyes. “Actually, Willow is the bait, whether we let it happen or not.”
His nostrils flare, jaw ticking as his gaze flicks between me and Graham, waiting for him to shut this down.
Graham exhales slowly through his nose. “It’s not a terrible idea,” he finally mutters.
“That guy kills alphas,” Hunter scoffs. “It’s insane.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Graham lifts his brows. “But it might be the only way to get her to see Finn for what he really is.”
Hunter’s shoulders tense. He doesn’t like it. He hates it. But he doesn’t immediately shoot it down.
Which means I’m making progress.
I smirk. “C’mon, Hunt, don’t act like you don’t see the value here. She wants him.” His fingers curl into fists, and I hold up my hands before he can deck me. “I didn’t say she loves him. But she’s drawn to him. And you and I both know that you can’t force an omega to break that kind of bond—not with logic. She has to see it for herself.”
Hunter grinds his teeth so hard, I swear I hear it crack.
Graham nods once, firm. “He’s right.”
“He’s right?” Hunter barks a humorless laugh, his frustration snapping. “So we just hand her over? Just sit back and let Finn—”
“We don’t hand her over,” I cut in. “We control it.”
Hunter exhales hard through his nose, still pissed. Still resisting.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “You know her, Hunt. If we keep forcing her into a corner, she’s going to run or murder us herself.” I glance at Graham. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather she run toward us than away. That and I enjoy breathing.”
That lands.
Graham’s expression tightens, his mind clearly working through the logistics. He hates not having control, but he also knows I’m right.
Hunter’s jaw flexes. His pulse ticks in his throat. He drags a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off of him in waves. “And if it backfires? If she doesn’t see what we want her to see?”
I smirk. “Then we handle it. Like we always do.”
Hunter mutters something under his breath before shooting Graham a look. “We better handle it.”
Graham nods once, sharp and decisive. “We will.”
A beat of silence.
Then I clap my hands together. “Great. Let’s go put this plan in motion.”
Hunter groans. “Oh yeah, this will go over real well.”
CHAPTER 39
Willow
I barely slept.
Not because I wasn’t exhausted…I was. But every time I closed my eyes, I felt everything pressing down on me. The suffocating presence of them outside my door. Not that I looked out into the hallway, I just knew they were there. The new lock on my window. My dad—the traitor—backing them up instead of me.
They’re all treating me as if I’m fragile. Something to be locked away for my own good.
I grind my teeth, pacing my apartment for what has to be the hundredth time this morning.
And worse—he’s out there. Across the street.
Finn.
I don’t want to think about yesterday, but my body does. His hands on me. His mouth dragging over every inch of my skin. The way his eyes burned, seeing me as something holy, as his, even though I know better.
I shouldn’t feel this. Not after everything in that file. Not after what Hunter told me.
But he was forgotten. Locked away. Ignored. Left to rot, erased as though he never existed. And still—he clawed his way out of the dark. Turned himself into something. Someone.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shaking my head. No. I can’t let my heart get involved here. Finn isn’t some sad, broken thing that needs my sympathy. He’s dangerous. Obsessed.
And I—I’m not supposed to want that.
But I do.
And that’s the real fucking problem.
A knock at the door makes me jump.
“Go away,” I snap before I even know who it is.
Silence.
Then—Carson’s voice, smooth and coaxing. “Not a chance, peaches.”
I groan, dragging my hands over my face before stomping over to the door. When I yank it open, Carson leans against the frame, arms crossed, lips curled into that easy smirk of his.
“You look like hell,” he says, hazel eyes sweeping over me, smug and all too knowing.
I fold my arms. “And you look too pleased with yourself. What do you want?”
He doesn’t move. Just tilts his head, lazy confidence dripping off him. “Thought I’d come check on you. Make sure you didn’t throw yourself out the window in protest.”
I glare. “Ha. Ha.”
He pushes off the doorframe, stepping into my space, owning it the way he always does. “Don’t be difficult.”
I arch a brow. “Difficult? You mean furious? Betrayed? Kidnapped?”
He presses a hand to his chest, mock wounded. “Ouch, baby. Brutal.”
I roll my eyes and stalk back inside, leaving him in the doorway. He follows, of course, shutting the door behind him as though he belongs here.
“I’m not in the mood, Carson,” I warn, dropping onto the couch. “Go away.”
He falls onto the cushion beside me, thigh brushing mine. “I could. Or I could stay here and be your favorite captor.”
I scowl. “You are my favorite captor.”
His grin spreads slow, wide, like I just handed him the best gift of his life.
I huff. “That’s not a good thing.”
“It’s not a bad thing, either.” He winks, nudging my leg with his knee. “Come on, peaches. Don’t tell me you actually prefer Gloom & Doom over me.”
I don’t answer, glaring at my hands instead.
Carson shifts beside me, watching me too closely. “Thinking about him?”
I stiffen.
His mouth twitches, the teasing still there, but tempered now. “I know you are.”
My stomach knots. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles, tilting his head. “Liar.”
I grit my teeth. “Fuck off, Carson.”
He doesn’t.
He leans in instead, dropping his voice. “You read that file. You saw everything. And yet you still want to go to him, don’t you? You like the danger?”
I should say no.
I should tell him to shut up and leave.
But my silence is answer enough.
Carson exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Jesus, peaches.”
I swallow hard, not meeting his eyes.
A beat of silence follows, then he says, “You know, I could let you see him.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
Carson shrugs, all nonchalance, stretching his arm along the back of the couch giving the impression that we’re just two friends having a casual chat instead of me being a prisoner and him being my captor. “I mean, if it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well do it my way. Controlled. Safe.”
My pulse kicks up. This is a trick. It has to be a trick.
“You’d just willingly let me see the guy you all locked me up to keep me away from?”
He lifts a shoulder, casual as ever. “I like breaking the rules, peaches.” His smirk curves slow, lazy. “Like I did with you—”
Heat prickles up my spine.
Damn him.
He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I cross my arms, my stomach twisting. “And you’d help me see him, knowing he wants me?”
His gaze drops, dragging deliberately over my body before flicking back up to meet mine. “You’re hard to resist. I know that.”
He leans in just slightly, his voice dropping into something warm and coaxing. “So, what do you say, peaches? Want my help?”
I stare at him, waiting for the smirk, the tell that this is just another elaborate game to keep me caged, dressed up as care. A gotcha moment.
But Carson isn’t playing. There’s no mock in his eyes, no curve of his mouth that says he’s toying with me.
Not entirely, anyway.
“You’re serious?” My voice comes out quieter than I intend, laced with suspicion, but not outright disbelief. Because the truth is?
I trust Carson.
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
But I do.
He tilts his head, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes, the kind that see way too much. He doesn’t rush me. Just lets me work through the twisting mess in my head.
Finally, he shrugs, a slow smile curling at the edge of his mouth. “I mean, technically, I should be tackling you to the floor for even considering it. But if you’re gonna see him anyway… well. You could do it my way.”
I narrow my eyes. “Your way?”
His smirk deepens. “Controlled. Safe,” he repeats.
My heart pounds. He must see my hesitation, because he leans in, just close enough that his heat bleeds into mine, making my already frayed nerves snap tighter.
“You don’t have to decide now, peaches,” he murmurs, his voice coaxing, warm, like I’m something delicate he’s luring in. Like he already knows I’ll say yes. “Just think about it.”
He pushes up from the couch, stretching in that way that makes his shirt ride up, flashing the hard lines of his stomach before he turns toward the kitchen as if he’s letting me contemplate his words.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat. I don’t think he’s lying to me.
I think he’s framing it just right so I won’t be mad later when I find out he never actually gave me a choice at all. But is that really any different than what I’d do in his place?
I exhale, rubbing my fingers over my temples.
Maybe I’m just as fucked up as the rest of them for even considering this.
Carson doesn’t press me for an answer. Doesn’t poke or prod like I expect him to. Instead, he just wanders into my kitchen, whistling under his breath as he starts pulling out ingredients.
Eggs. Bread. Butter. Some kind of fancy cheese he probably picked up from the expensive grocery store.
I blink. “What are you doing?”
“Making you breakfast.”
He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if it’s normal. As if he didn’t just offer to break every rule for me. He sets a pan on the stove, grabs a knife, and slices through cheese with the kind of focus that says it’s his duty to make sure I eat this morning.
“Since when do you cook?” I narrow my eyes, shifting on the couch.
Carson flashes a boyish grin but doesn’t look up from the counter. “Since always. I’m full of surprises, peaches.”
He hums while he works, moving through my kitchen as though it’s his. Every motion easy. Effortless. He belongs in this space, and I’m the bratty omega forgetting to appreciate the alpha who’s decided to provide for me.
